


The Fifth Killjoy

by bleedingpens



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Killjoys, Gen, Kid Fic, Revolver's adorable let's take a moment, Work In Progress, cute little kid stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedingpens/pseuds/bleedingpens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>**SERIES OF ONE-SHOTS**<br/>((Following along with co-story "Cracking Glass". I received an inbox suggesting I write a little side series of the cuteness that is little Revolver growing up with the Four Fabulous Killjoys. Figured I'd take a crack at it.))<br/>---<br/>Being a Killjoy is hard enough. What happens when the Four are left to care for a little girl that they barely know?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Golden

Nine and a half year olds have got to be the most complicated thing Ghoul has ever had to deal with, and that's saying something.

When it started to rain outside, he was slightly relieved. Charlie couldn't insist on being outside when it was raining, right? He had ushered her inside and watched her run down the hall into the room they both shared, and he figured he could sit to have a smoke and relax before going through the horrendous task of corraling her into pajamas and her bed. Jet and Kobra were out on a Zone run for the rest of the night, picking up a distress call from a drac compound in Zone Four. Poison had taken the car out to drop off some paints at Rev and Suicide's, so Ghoul was left with little Revolver and nothing to do. 

He took her on his motorbike to the City walls, and she enjoyed running up and down the painted murals and babbling about colors. But when the shifting of draculoid schedules drew closer, he scooped her up and drove her home, but not before promising she could "help" steer (which consisted of her little hands clasped around the front of the motorbike while he drove). 

The rain was pattering on the window and Doctor D watches it slide down the pane. When Ghoul plops down and pulls out a cigarette, he turns to him. "Where's the kid?" 

"She ran down the hall." Frank lit up and took a drag. "Hopefully she's worn out and will just fall asleep."

"Unlikely." The Doctor says, turning his gaze back out the window. "No acid tonight. Just...pure rain. A cleansing of the desert, don't you think, boy?." 

Ghoul takes another drag and rolls his eyes. Doctor D was always one for philosophy. "Yeah, sure." 

"Frankie!" Revolver yells from down the hall. "Frankie, where're my boots?" 

He groans. "Baby, it's raining. What do you need your boots for?" 

There was a few moments of muffled movements then Charlie came speeding down the hall. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt that Ghoul recognized as his own and it hung past her knees. On her feet were no longer her sneakers, but her boots. 

"Frankie, let's go play in the rain!" She tuggs on his free hand. 

"Charlie, we've been playin' all day. Besides, the rain is going to make you all wet and muddy." 

She pokes her lower lip out. "Please?" She blinks at him through her bangs and he feels his resolve crumble. 

He sighs. "You're so goddamned cute. Fine," She lets out a happy yell. "But you have to take a bath afterwards." 

"I don't want to take a bath." She wrinkles her nose. He tugs the sweatshirt over her head and pushes her bangs back from her forehead, leveling his face with hers. 

"Then we don't get to play in the rain." She weighs the option for a few moments before turning on her heel and running outside. 

"Oh, goddamn it." Frank mumbles, taking one last drag of his smoke and handing it to Doctor D, who was grinning. 

"Have fun becoming a muddy sonuvabitch." He says, laughing at Ghoul's scowl. 

"Frankie, c'mon!" Revolver calls. He could hear splashing and splattering outside. He unclaps his gun holster and hangs it by the door, pulling his coat off and running a hand through his hair. 

By the time he's outside, Revolver has already splattered herself head-to-toe in mud. 

The entertainment of small children was beyond him. 

He chases her around in the rain, splashes in the puddles with her and does everything possible to wear her out. After their fifth attempt at making a mud castle, she tells him that her hands were cold and he calls it a night. 

"Inside, munchkin." He tells her, picking her up and pushing wet hair from her forehead. "Let's get cleaned up, yeah?" 

"Wait," She tugs on the collar of his vest. "We gotta drink the rain first. Doctor D said rain is...um...cleaning." 

"Cleansing," He corrects gently. "And drinking it is bad. It might be dirty. Just look up at the sky, okay? The water will splash on your face and it'll be like you're in a shower." 

She tilts her head back and closes her eyes, her face turned upwards toward the steady rain. Her face looks peaceful, her soft skin becoming clean under the rainfall, and Ghoul could watch her forever. Looking so blissfully innocent and unaware. She's settled on his hip and her arms are wrapped around his neck, resting comfortably as she lets the rain dribble on her face. 

He feels cleaner too, somewhat. He's splattered in dirt, sure, and absolutely soaked. But with the little girl's fingers in his collar and the weight of having someone to hold against his side, he felt...happy. 

Fuckin' weird. 

"Okay, baby girl, ready to go inside?" She nods and he steps under the overhang of the Diner, setting her down. "Shake yourself out, like a puppy." She did as she was told, exaggeratedly shaking her head and flailing her limbs around. "Good girl. Bath time, yeah?" She pouts but nods and he picks her up again, settling her on his hip before stepping inside and walking down the hall. 

"Poison's stayin' at a friends, Ghoul." Doctor D follows them and stops in the doorway of his own room. "Too much rain to drive in. Kobra and Jet are holed up someplace safe."

"Where's Poison staying?" Ghoul adjusts Revolver and hopes it's someplace safe. He'd rather Gerard be home. It's just safer when he is. Also, it gave him backup with Revolver. 

"Rev and Suicide's." Doctor D stretches. "I'm turnin' to the radio waves. 'Night, kiddos." He shuts the door behind him. 

"Who's Suicide and Rev?" Revolver asks curiously when he sets her on the floor of the bathroom. 

"Oh, you know them." He works off her boots and eyes her muddy clothes. Poison's gonna kill him for letting her get this dirty. "Patrick and Pete. Remember? They brought you all those nice clothes. They have a little girl too, but she's a bit older than you." 

"Can she be my friend?" Revolver asks, scrunching up her nose when Frank pulls her shirt over her head and puts it in the sink. "I'm so muddy." 

"I told you that'd happen." He turns on the water as she finishes undressing, wrapping her in a towel when he turns back around. "And yeah, I'm sure she'd love to be your friend. Who wouldn't?" She giggles and he grins at her. 

"You know that lullaby Gee sings you sometimes? The one about the golden moon?" She nods and he tests the water with one hand. "Pete wrote that song."

"Oh. I like that song a lot." She says, watching him as he rolls up his sleeves. "Frankie, I want paintings just like you when I'm older." 

"Paintings?" He holds her hand as she steps into the tub and sits down. Since it was raining, they didn't have to worry as much about conserving water and he was able to heat it up for her. He gets down a cup and pours some water over her head. "Oh, my tattoos. Sure you can, when you're way older and you decide you want them. Not for a while though." He rinses out her hair and she squeezes her eyes shut. 

"So it's just going to be me and you tonight, kiddo." He continues, pouring a small amount of soap into his hands and lathering it up. "Do you want to have a sleepover? We can even build a fort." He gently rubs the shampoo into her hair, working through the knots and tangles. 

"Oh, yes yes yes!" She says excitedly. He pours another cup of water over her head again and gives her a washcloth. 

"Wash your body, and I'm going to get changed, okay?" She nods and he leaves the room, slipping into his own and stripping down. He puts his muddy clothes in a pile and pulls on his spare shirt and boxers, working some mud from his hair. He pads barefoot back to Revolver, where she's cleaned off and rubbing her eyes. "All done?" She nods and he rinses her off one more time before shutting off the water and wrapping her in a towel. 

He helps her dry off and scoops her up towel and all, nuzzling her face with his nose as he carries her down the hall into her room. She's being surprisingly easy tonight-usually, getting her ready for bed involves a lot of chasing her down and cornering her into doing what she's supposed to. She must be tired. 

Frank lets her choose her pajamas, and she pulls on a pair of soft flannels with small ducks printed on them. Luckily for the Four, Patrick and Pete had found a girl of their own some time before the Four found Revolver, and had lots of hand-me-down clothes for Charlie. 

Frank settles her on his lap and combs through her hair, since her eyes are drooping and she's yawning too much to do it herself. "Maybe we can build a fort tomorrow," He comments when she yawns for what seems like the thousandth time. "Want to just sleep in my bed?" 

"Can we cuddle?" She asks him sleepily. He sets the comb down and turns her around to kiss her forehead. 

"Of course, baby. C'mon, let's go to sleep." He picks her up and she settles comfortably against his chest. She so soft, her skin unbroken and her flannels falling just over her feet and hands, and Frank loves to hold her. She remains something untouched in a world full of broken things. Her hair curls below her ears and her fingers curl into his shirt, and more often than not does Frank feel like she's a weight keeping him grounded. 

He lays down under the covers and sets her down next to him, chuckling quietly when one of her hands keeps itself tightened in his shirt and another find it's way to her mouth. Her middle and ring finger slip in, and she suckles on them with her eyes closed. 

"Goodnight, Charlie." He kisses her goodnight and she tucks herself under his chin. He brings one arm up around her, tucking his hand below her thighs and cradling her against him. She smells like baby shampoo (it was the only stuff they had left) and she's breathing slowly, a small ribcage against his arm. 

"Goodnight, Frankie." She mumbles around her fingers. He hears her breathing even out and she's asleep within seconds. He looks down at her, her face barely illuminated in the dark. Her pinky and index finger curl below her eyes and she looks oddly peaceful for a girl who hates to sleep.

He yawns and closes his own eyes. Sleeping was a manner of escape, but with the sound of Charlie's mellow breathing beside him, it didn't seem like as much of a chore. 


	2. The Fighter

When Mikey tells her to punch him, she gets very confused. 

She's standing in front of him with her fists held in the way he instructed her to, tape wrapped around her knuckles. The sun is beating down on the two of them, and Revolver raises an eyebrow at him.

"C'mon, 'Volver. Hit me as hard as you can." He taps his chin. "Right here." 

She shifts on her feet slightly. "Er, why?" 

"Because I told you to." 

She sighs. "Mikey, this is stupid. I'm not going to hit you." 

"Revolver, you have to learn to fight." She's recently turned twelve, and pretty soon, she's going to need to be able to handle herself in a fight like the rest of them.

"Last I checked, fighting involved guns. Not punching you in the face." She points out. He sighs. The amount she's grown up in the last three years amazes him. Gone was any childhood innocence, replaced with a hardened girl with sad eyes. It depressed the fuck out of him sometimes. 

"Just hit me, Charlie." He watches her roll her eyes. "Pretend I stole your stuffed giraffe."

"His name is Clarence." She mutters. 

"Hit me, kid. I'm serious." 

She looks unsure, but winds her fist back and strikes him across the chin. He barely moves. "Do it again. Don't wind back. Just fly forward." She hits him again, her fist colliding with his cheek this time. She stumbles with the force of it and falls forward. 

He hooks his hands under her arms and straightens her on her feet. "Again, Charlie. Harder." She punches him straight across the face, almost moving but staying upright. "Again." She hits him. " _Again_." Her punch is stronger this time. " _Again!_ " She lands a blow that knocks his head sideways. 

"Very nice," He rubs his jaw with one hand. "Hit me again." 

She looks a little miserable but sends her fist flying at him again. This time, he catches it in his hand and raises an eyebrow. She looks confused. 

"If someone grabs your hand, hit them with the other one." He instructs, releasing her fist. "Again." She glowers at him.

"Did I stutter?" He stares her down. "Hit. Me. Again." 

She goes to strike him, and when he catches it, she sends the other fist across his cheekbone with a resounding  _crack_!

They go at it a few more times, and sure enough, Revolver picks up fighting pretty quick. Kobra actually feels a bruise forming on his cheek.

"Kick me." He steps back and assumes a fighting stance. "Swing your leg, and aim right here." He taps his ribcage. She looks at him for a second before swinging her leg around and slamming it into his ribcage. "Again." She repeats the action, and he grabs her ankle, flipping her so she lands on her forearms. Keeping his grip on her ankle, he looks down at her. She's shaking her hair from her eyes and glaring up at him. 

"What the fuck, Kobra?"

"What would you do in this situation?" When she stares at him, he repeats it firmly. "I said, what would you do if I was a draculoid and I had a gun aimed to your head-" He pulls out his own blaster and aims it at her. She looks a little panicked, but he pushes away his sympathy. "-and I was about to fire? What would you do?" She opens her mouth to speak, and he shakes her head. "Don't tell me. Just do it."

She hesitates and he fires a warning shot past her head. Not close enough to hit her, obviously, but close enough to scare her. She pushes herself off her forearms while twisting her body around, wrenching her ankle from his grasp and landing on her back. She scrambles to her feet and has her fist flying across his face before he can say anything. He flies sideways with the force of it and lands painfully on his hand. 

"Whoa, kiddo." He laughs slightly and kneels on one knee, going to stand up and looking at her. "That was-Hey, what's wrong?" 

She's standing completly still, save for her tremoring shoulders, and she's stark-pale. Her eyes are laced with terror, and her bottom lip has an unmistaken tremble in it. 

Kobra curses inwardly. He went too far, he knew this would happen. "Hey, hey, Charlie." He says in a quiet voice, standing up fully and holding his hands in front of him. "It's okay. I'm sorry, I was just trying to get you to move, okay?" When the fear in her eyes doesn't waver, he feels his heart clench.  _Oh, great fuckin' job Mikey._ "You know I'd never hurt you, kiddo. Come on, it's okay. I was just playing around. Come here, I won't do it again." He opens his arms and she runs into them, squeezing her eyes shut. 

"D-Don't do that." She stammers out, folding her arms around herself. He envelops her in a hug and holds her tightly. "That was freaky." 

"I know, I'm really sorry." He mumurs. "I...I forget sometimes, you know?" She looks up at him confusedly and he continues with a sigh. "I mean, you're twelve. We picked up training so fast because we had to. We weren't kids. But you..." He releases her and kneels down in front of her, thumbing away a few tears from her cheek. "...you're a kid. Not a solider. I'm sorry, 'Volver." She nods and wipes off her face with a shaky breath before turning from him. She whips back around with her fists to her face. 

"Let's go again." She says, her voice barely above a whisper. She clears it roughly and adjusts her stance. "Again, Kobra." 

He raises an eyebrow. "Kid, we don't have to." 

"I may be twelve, but sooner or later there's going to be a gun pointed at my head and I won't be able to cry myself out of it." She takes a deep breath. "Again." He shrugs and assumes a blocking stance. 

She hits his hands, left-left-right-right, over and over until he grabs one fist and she flies at him with the other. He dodges and grabs her leg, and she sends her knee into his nose. When his head snaps back and blood begins to dribble down his face, she yelps. "Oh, shit sorry!" 

He laughs and presses his sleeve to his nose. "It's all good. Think you're the first Killjoy ever to apologize when you're fighting someone." Kobra sniffs and tilts his head back. "Maybe the punching bag will work a little better." 

He leads her inside and down into the basement. "It's freaky down here." She mumbles, looking at the piled boxes and supplies. 

"Yeah. The boogeyman lives down here, you know that right?" He flips on the light and grins at her with blood trickling over his teeth. 

"No, he doesn't." She crosses her arms but looks unsure. He laughs and leads her over to where a worn bag is hanging from the ceiling. 

"Legs apart." He commands once she puts her fists up again. He knocks his boots against her ankles so she stands with her legs shoulder-width apart. "Okay, now focus. Tunnel vision. All you can see is the bag and your fists, okay?"

She focuses on the wearing bag, eyeing the stiches and fading fabric. She nods once. 

"That bag is filled with something, Revolver." He circles her slowly. "It's filled with everything bad that has ever happened to you. It's every drac that's ever scared you, every strike against your life that's been taken, it's the times you've seen us bleeding, it's your parents and it's Korse." He sees Revolver's knuckles tighten. "Now give it what it deserves." 

She lashes out, slamming her fists again and again, feeling her muscles ache and burn. "Harder." Mikey commands, circling her. "Is that all you got? I don't think it's getting the message,  _harder_!" She swings her leg around and slams the bag with her heel before hitting it again with her fist. " _Harder, Charlie, again!_ " He didn't even realize he was yelling, but she didn't seem to notice. She's breathing heavy and closing in on the hanging bag, striking left-left, right-right, left-right-left-right, over and over and over until sweat is dripping into her eyes. 

"Good." He says, his voice normal volume, when she slows down and steps away from the back. Her bony chest is heaving. "Very good." 

She pushes sweaty strands of hair from her eyes with a taped hand. A little bit of blood is soaking through the white tape, but she's oblivious. "That...That was kind of....cool." She says finally, taking deep breaths to steady herself. 

"Good job," He claps her on the shoulder. "A little bit more training, and you'll be kicking ass like me." She rolls her eyes and he laughs. "Same time tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that. Get the picture?"

She nods and unwraps her knuckles carefully. About two of them are split open, and they're all turning a purplish-bruised color. "Ow." She comments, looking them over. 

Kobra laughs again and places a hand to the back of her neck. "Get used to it. C'mon, get showered and we can do something else. Something less violent." 

"Will you let me draw you?" She asks meekly, turning around to look at him. He has a flash of those same big eyes peeking up at him from the foot of his bed where she used to hide as a little girl, and he smiles. 

"Sure. Get showered, though. You smell." He pushes her hair forward so it flops into her eyes and she whines at him. 

" _Kobra_! Stop it!" She pushes it back and runs up the stairs. He watches her go and flips the lightswitch off. 

"Wait, Charlie." He says at the top of the stairs, catching her skinny arm as she runs past him. She skids to a stop and looks back. "You...You know I'd never actually hurt you, right?" 

She pauses and nods slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. I'm sorry for bein' a baby." She mumbles. 

"Hey." He lifted her chin. "You are a baby." He plops a kiss on her nose before she can protest and gently pushes her down the hall. "Go wash off. I'll make you food and you can draw me, yeah?" She nods and scampers down the hall. 

"How'd it go?" Poison asks me when Kobra walks into the kitchen. He's got a chewed pencil between his teeth and a map in front of him. "Her knuckles look fuckin' destroyed."

"It went well." Kobra decides to leave out the part where he aimed a gun at her, 'cause he's not exactly in the mood for a two-hour lecture. "She'll be a good fighter with some more training."

"Yeah, yeah." Poison mumbles, his eyes returning to the map. "As long as you don't enter her in any'a those fighting rings. They'll snap her in half." 

Kobra just grins. 

 


	3. Demons

Poison is almost asleep when the screaming starts. 

He's used to it, sadly. Every night for the last two weeks, Charlie has been waking up in screams, and nothing seems to stop it. Warm milk, tea, lullabies-Ghoul had suggested giving her a sip of whiskey, but that idea was shot down in seconds. 

He sighs and rubs his eyes, expecting it to go away. It usually does, once Kobra gets to her and-oh,  _fuck_. 

Kobra isn't here. He left Poison in charge because he had to go with Jet on a Zone run that required his attention. Poison vaguely remembers the talk Kobra gave him as he loaded his things onto his bike. 

"She likes it if you put the Power Pup in a bowl, so she doesn't have to eat it out of the can-she swears it taste different." He had instructed while holstering his gun. "If she doesn't want to take her bath, promise her you'll sing for her afterwards, and she'll get in. Fuck, what else?" He loaded more battery cartridges into his gun and chewed on his lower lip. "Oh, yeah, she'll have a nightmare most likely-you  _have_ to get to her before she wakes up, okay?" Poison hadn't really been listening-he had Bandit before. Kids weren't difficult. He was good with them, it was going to be fine. 

However, he was used to normal kids. Kids who giggled and laughed and played and were...happy. Charlie wasn't like that. She was still new to them, only two weeks in the Zones under her belt, and she was quiet and somber and aching. When she was around Mikey, her smile came easier and she almost was normal, save for her two fingers that never left his belt loops. But with him gone, she was absolutely silent. She had barely talked at all, preferring to sit as close to Poison as possible without him noticing. If he sent her a sidelong glance, she would scoot away. 

Poison lays there for too long. He already knows that, judging by the sharp crash that comes from her room and the screaming that becomes terrified whimpering. Ghoul is outside, keeping watch, although Poison is sure he would have heard her by now. Apparently he trusts Poison too much to lend him any help. 

He finally comes to his senses and leaps out of bed, blindly feeling for his pants in the dark. He can hear her start to cry, and fuck him seriously, because the one thing he wasn't supposed to do was let her wake up alone. He manages to yank on pants-not caring if they're his, or even on the right direction-and stumbles into the hall. "Charlie, Charlie, it's okay." He says, feeling along the walls. Fuck, it's dark. "I'm coming, kiddo." 

Managing to get to her room, he opens the door and finds a rather heart-breaking sight. Charlie is on the ground, having fallen out of her bed, her blanket wrapped tightly around her. She's pressed herself in the corner of her bed and the wall, half of her body hidden beneath the bed. Her cheeks are glistening in the moonlight from tears and hiccuping sobs are wracking her small body. Poison kneels in front of her, alarmed by the deathly pallor in her cheeks, and puts on hand on his knee. 

"You wanna come out of there, sweetheart?" 

"I-I want to go h-home." She stutters through quivering lips. 

"You are home, Charlie." He beckons with his hand for her to come to him. "C'mere." 

She spends a few lengthy seconds looking at him and he wonders if this is what Mikey felt like when Gerard would spend hours staring at him on the tour bus. Keeping her blanket wrapped around her quivering shoulders, she slides out from under the bed and walks on her knees toward him. 

When she reaches him, he scoops her into his arms and sits back onto his butt. "You're okay," He says, pressing his face to her hair. "It's all going to be okay." Her crying starts up again and she covers her face with her hands, shaking in his arms. 

"I was scared and Mikey isn't home and you weren't coming and I f-fell and hurt my knee." She manages between her whimpers, and if Poison didn't feel like an asshole before, he sure does now.

"I know. I'm sorry." He rubs circles on her back. "Let me see what you're hurtin', baby girl." 

She wriggles her arms from her blanket and wipes her cheeks with her sleeves. As she reaches down to pull up her pants leg, he notices the way her trembling hands are partially concealed by sleeves that are too long on her skinny arms. He's left in a moment of wonder, one he hasn't felt in a while-how a world so fucked can create something so untouched and pure and innocent. He finds himself hoping he can keep her that way as long as possible. 

She rolls up her pants leg to show him her knee. It's not bad at all, just a little raw from the fall off the bed, but he knows how kids are with their "injuries" so he places a light kiss on it anyways. "All better?"

She nods and reaches her arms up to wrap around his neck. Her tears have slowed down a bit to small sniffs and hiccups, but she's still shaking beneath her blanket and Poison can't seem to get her to stop. 

"You want to talk about what scared you, Charlie?" He asks gently, lifting her up blanket and all into his arms. He holds her to his chest, her legs wrapping around his waist, and begins to walk around the room while he rubs her back. 

She shakes her head adamantly against his shoulder, and he sighs.  "You sure? It might help." 

She's quiet for a few moments before speaking in a trembling voice. "It's the s-same every night." 

He takes up a rhythm in his step, keeping pace like he would with a crying baby. "Yeah?"

"My mommy and daddy are always there, and the bad guys with the white guns, and they always shoot my mommy and daddy over and over again and-and, and they say it's my fault 'cause I was scared and hiding away." She wipes her eyes with her sleeve. "But y-you don't come and save me like you're s'posed to." 

"We don't?" He adjusts her slightly in his arms to better accommodate her. One hand is resting at the small of her back, another beneath her legs. "I'm sorry. That must be scary, huh?" She nods. "But you know something?"

"What?" She asks quietly.

"It's not real." He leans her back slightly to look at her. "None of that is real. It's over and you're safe here with us. See how you woke up and fell, but I came in to get you?" She nods silently, dark eyes watching his with a sadness no little kid should carry. "That's how it's always gonna be. You'll be scared and maybe hurt, but I'll make it better." 

"Always?" Her voice is barely a whisper. 

"Always, baby." He feels her lay her head down again and her fingers grip the collar of his shirt instinctively. "Do you want me to sing to you?" The words tumble off his lips without thinking; it's a reflex. He hasn't used his voice since the Fires two weeks before, and he's not sure if he'll be able to get it to work, but the broken look on her face makes him want to pull out all the stops. 

"Yes please." Her voice is growing sleepy, exhaustion from the night overtaking her small body. He tucks the blanket around her tighter and gets her stuffed giraffe from her bed, carrying her into the hallway and through his doorway. 

"Is it okay if you sleep in here with me?" He asks her as he gets into bed. "I might wake up and get scared too." She nods and he lays her down beside him, covering her with her own blanket and giving her Clarence to hold. She watches him get comfortable as he removes his pants-he realizes they aren't even his, they're Frank's and he's not sure how he got them on in the first place-and she asks him another quiet, sleepy question as he lays down. 

"Will things get better?" 

He gives her a small smile and covers them both with an additional blanket. The desert may be hot as hell during the day, but it's freezing at night and he wants to keep her warm. "Of course they will." He puts an arm around her and swallows thickly over a lump in his throat he didn't know had formed. "Want me to sing to you now?"

She looks at him and nods. He thinks for a moment and clears his throat slightly. 

His voice starts out a little off-key, but gains power as it progresses.  _"We hold in our hearts the sword and the faith..."_

Her faces changes from sadness and apprehension to wonder, her mouth falling open into a small 'o'. 

_"Swelled up from the rain, clouds move like a wraith. Well after all, we'll lie another_ _day..."_

He sweeps a lock of hair from her forehead gently and continues. The air seems still, like it's listening to a broken man singing a broken song to a broken little girl with a wounded heart.  _"And through it all, we'll find some other way to carry on, through cartilage and fluid and did you come to stare or wash away the blood?"_

Charlie's eyes begin to close and Poison smiles when her middle and ring fingers find there way into her mouth. She watches him through half-closed lids, suckling her fingers sleepily. 

_"Well tonight, well tonight will it ever come? Spend the rest of your days rockin' out, just for the dead. Well tonight, tonight will it ever come? I can see you awake, any time, in my head."_

Her eyes close completely and her breathing evens out, slipping away under the comfort of his touch and the weight beside her. 

 _"All fall down, well after all."_ He finishes, mostly for himself, and places a tentative kiss to her forehead. Part of him is screaming that this attachment is dangerous, but most of him is warm in the thought of someone to care for that's not himself. 

It may have been the three weeks from hell-finding a child one week in after losing everything he loved, a nuclear apocalypse that forced them underground for days, and already he feels decades older. He was generally angry at everything and everyone, save for one thing-the little girl lying beside him. She was so full of hope, innocence and held a bit of everything the Four had lost. 

She was moonlight on a seemingly dark night. She was a hand to hold and a child to caress and something to write music about.

But most of all, she was a reason to hold on.


	4. Oh Ms. Believer

Revolver wakes up to the sound of heavy footsteps and whimpering.

 _That's weird,_ She thinks as she wriggles out from under all of her blankets and slides off the bed. She drops to the ground on her bare feet.  _Maybe Frankie's home. Maybe he brought me cookies like last time!_  She knuckles one eye and uses both hands to open her bedroom door. 

She hears a chair being dragged across the floor and a heavy thud. She slips out into the hallway and sneaks against the wall like when she and Frankie play hide-and-seek. She's very good at that game. Frankie isn't too good, but she doesn't tell him because that's mean, and she's not supposed to be mean. She knows that sometimes he hides easy so she can find him, but it's fun to win and tackle him. He always falls over. 

She can hear Poison talking, and his voice is weird. It's rough, and kind of firm. Like it sounds when she gets in trouble. Maybe somebody got in trouble. She hopes it's not her. Revolver tucks her bangs away from her eyes and turns around the corner, running over to Ghoul and wrapping herself around his leg. 

"Frankie!" She says happily, smiling up at him. "You're home!" 

That's weird. He doesn't look happy to see her. He looks kind of freaked out. His eyebrows are pulled together and he swiftly picks her up. 

"Hi, baby." He says quickly, turning away from Poison. Kobra steps around him and stands between them. "Shouldn't you be asleep?" He starts down the hallway and she wriggles in his grip. 

"Yeah, but I woke up 'cause I heard you. Why is Poison using his scary voice? Can I say hi to Mikey too? You guys were gone all  _day_ , I was so  _bored_ , and Doctor D let me play with his equipment and wear the headphones and talk on his cool microphone, but then he had to do stuff, so I had to play by myself and you said you'd play with me when you got home, remember? Do you remember that Frankie, maybe you gotta get your brain checked, I bet Doctor D could do that-" He carries her down the hall while she talks. "-maybe he can do a crazy experiment on you like in the Frankenstein book. Hey, your name is Frank! Maybe you're meant to  _be_ Frankenstein!" 

"You wanna know a secret?" He says, shouldering open her door and dropping her on the bed. She bounces on top of her blankets and giggles. "I actually am Frankenstein." 

"No you're not." Revolver giggles again. "You're just Frankie." 

"I am too." He fakes offense. "You know what Frankenstein likes to do, right? He likes to eat little girls!" He kneels by her bed and lifts her shirt, blowing a raspberry on her stomach. She shrieks with laughter and he grins at her. "He likes to eat giggly little girls who are up past their bedtime." 

"Don't eat me! I probably don't taste good." She says matter-of-factly, and he laughs. He stands and tucks her under her blankets. 

"If you get up again, I'll eat you right up." He kisses her forehead. "Go to sleep, cutie pie." 

"Okay. 'Night, Frankie." He smiles at her and closes the door behind him. Revolver sits back and wraps one arm around Clarence, closing her eyes. She's almost asleep when a voice makes her eyes fly open. 

It's coming from far away, but it's loud enough that she can hear it. 

 _"Please_ , please don't kill me." It's begging. She sits up and strains to listen. It sounds like a boy voice. "Please, I'm not with them, I swear,  _please-"_

There's a sharp slap and Poison is growling something, but it's too low for her to hear. The voice sounds again, and he sounds desperate. "Please, I swear to God, I don't work for them, I ran, I-"

Revolver frowns. The boy sounds sad. Are they helping him? Maybe they need more help to help the boy. She bites her lip, debating whether she should get up. Frankie was joking when he said he'd eat her, right? 

She slips from bed once again and pads over to her door, peeking her head out into the hallway. From here, she can hear Poison talking. 

"I don't give a  _fuck_ if you ran or not! Point is, you're here, you've got a uniform like the rest of 'em, and you've got pictures of our girl on that fuckin' laptop!" Poison's voice rises to a yell and Revolver stiffens. She doesn't like it when he yells. 

"I swear, I swear, I have a reason, I-" The boy's voice is trembling and squeaking, like Revolver's does when she gets really scared. 

Ghoul makes noise now, a barked laugh that doesn't sound happy to Revolver. It sounds mean. "A reason? You have a fucking  _reason_ that you have footage of a nine-year-old girl on your laptop, and a fucking _reason_ you've got their symbol on your chest. Same reason I got mine, kiddo-" His voice drops to a growl. "I got a team. What's yours, huh?" 

"Pl-Please, I don't..." 

Revolver frowns deeper and slips out of her shadowed hiding place, padding barefoot across the floor and walking up behind Frankie. She pulls on his sleeve.

"What?" He says, turning with an irritated expression. "What's-Oh, fuck, Revolver!" He lifts her up again. "I told you to stay in bed." He sounds angry with her. She feels a weird cold feeling in her stomach. Frankie doesn't get mad at her. "I'm going to lay you down and you're going to stay there, understand?" 

"But, but Frankie! I heard, I heard a boy, where's the boy?" She asks and he pales. She wriggles in his grip and pushes away from his shoulder, peeking over his shoulder. She lets out a tiny gasp when she sees the boy in the chair. 

His eyes are watery and red, like hers get what she cries a lot, and he's abnormally pale. His skin looks like the clouds, wind-blown and white. His hair is brown and curling against his forehead, but it's sticky and dirty looking. He's thin, thinner than anybody she's ever seen, and his wrists are loped in black wire, tied to the arms of a chair. His feet are bare and blistered, and he looks like he hasn't bathed in weeks. He stares at her with broken grey eyes, dried spit on his cracked lips. His cheek is flared red from a handprint. Revolver doesn't know why, but she doesn't want him to be hurt anymore. Her heart hurts when she looks at him for too long.   

"Frankie! Lemme down!" She pushes against him harder. "He's really sick!" 

"Revolver!" He says sharply. Poison steps between them. "Stop it right now." Jet looks up at the commotion, a silver item in his hands. His fingers are typing across the keys. 

"Charlie, c'mon." Kobra steps in and takes the struggling girl from Ghoul. "It's okay, it's okay, chill out, okay?" 

She slips from his grip and falls to the ground, stumbling slightly and dodging Poison's hands to run over to the boy. The boy weakly looks at her through dampened bangs, his eyes confused. She blinks at him and positions herself in front of him, turning to look at the four Killjoys staring at her, dumbfounded. 

"Leave him alone." She says loudly, trying to make herself sound like Poison when he's giving orders. "Stop hitting him." 

"Revolver," Kobra starts, but she cuts him off with a fierce shake of her head. 

"He's not hurtin' anybody." She crosses her arms and scowls. "Leave him alone." The boy is staring at her, she can feel it, and Poison levels a glare at her. This time she's not afraid. Okay, maybe she's a little bit afraid, but she doesn't want him to know that. She's gonna be brave for the boy. 

"Charlie, look at him." Ghoul says, pointing at the boy's chest. "He's one of them." She turns and sees the Better Living symbol inked on his dirty white shirt. Now that she looks closer, she recognizes the white jumpsuits the draculoids wear. She frowns at the boy. 

"He doesn't look like a bad guy. Bad guys have bad faces. He has a nice face. Look, he's all bloody." She points out. "Are you a bad guy?" She asks him, turning to look at him. 

He shakes his head and releases a hoarse "No," before coughing, his chin dropping to his chest. 

"I believe him." She turns back to the Four. "He says he's not a bad guy." 

"That's it!" Poison says, scowling at her. "You're going to bed right now, young lady." Kobra grabs her when she tries to jump away and she starts to wriggle away furiously. 

"Fuck, what is going on with her?" She hears Ghoul ask Poison. "She doesn't act like this." She knows it too. She's a good girl, and she listens. But something about the boy with skin like the clouds makes her want to fight against Kobra. She knows she's going to be in lots of trouble, but she doesn't care. 

Poison ignores Ghoul's question and wrenches the boy's head back, his fingers tight in the boy's dirty hair. The boy whimpers slightly and swallows visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing against his pale skin. Poison's voice is a growl. "I'm going to ask you again. Why do you have those pictures on your computer?" 

"I-" The boy's voice cracks and he coughs again. "Let me explain, I would-" 

"Poison," Jet cuts him off. "Come here." Kobra stops trying to wrangle Revolver and gives up, settling her on his hip but giving her a look to tell her they'd have a talk later. Poison releases the boy, and stalks across the room to where Jet is sitting. He scowls at the screen, and his eyes flash with anger, and he returns to the boy in two quick strides. His fist lands it's way across the boy's jaw before anybody can react. 

Revolver jumps at the horrible sound of knuckles-on-bone, and the ear-splitting scream of pain from the boy when his jaw is thrown out of place. Blood splatters his pants. Revolver feels fear tighten her gut and she freezes. Kobra notices her frightened face and worry sets across his forehead. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Poison yells, and Revolver covers her ears with her hands. She wishes she never got woken up. "Fuck, man, first you gotta have pictures, now you have live streaming video? She's nine years old, you sick bastard!" The boy tries to speak but all that's released is a gagging sound and spilling blood. "I should kill you. I should fuckin' splatter your brains on the floor of this fuckin' shack!" Poison pulls out his blaster and Ghoul gives a warning glance in his direction. 

"Poison, chill." He says. 

"Don't tell me to chill!" Poison turns to Ghoul, his expression livid. "Why am I the only one freaking out about this?" The boy coughs harder, blood coating his chin. 

"Let him talk, you insubordinate asshole." Kobra says, his voice cold. "I'm not his biggest fan either, but you're scaring the kid half to death and Charlie's going to start crying in a few seconds if you don't calm the fuck down, and I don't want to deal with that on top of the rest of the shit tonight has brought, so let him talk." Poison doesn't look happy about it, but he takes a deep breath and turns to the boy. 

"It's n-not mine. None of th-that is...mine." The boy gasps out. "I st-stole it. I'm-"

"Wanted." Doctor D walks out from his room with three file-folders in his hands. He drops them on the table. "He's wanted, Poison. Nothin' more'n a kid anyways. Kid too smart for 'is own good." 

The boy looks slightly relieved and he nods. "It's n-not mine...I'd never...I-I'm sor-sorry." 

Revolver's still clinging to Kobra's jacket, her face half-hidden in his neck. She keeps hearing Poison's loud yelling in her ears, and seeing all of the blood coming from the boy's mouth. Blood isn't supposed to come from mouths. What if Poison hurt him really bad? What if he dies? Revolver's heart speeds up against Kobra's shoulder, and he turns his face slightly to press his cheek against her nose. It's his own way to tell her it's okay, by touching her nose. He used to run the pad of his thumb across it when she would cry for her mom and dad, and it's stuck ever since. 

"Clean him up." Poison says roughly. "I'm goin' out for a smoke." He stalks out of the room and the door slams behind him. The room is still for a few moments before Doctor D clears his throat. 

"That was eventful. I'm gonna take a look-see at genius kid's jaw. Rest of you-bed. Now." 

Ghoul looks unconvinced but heads down the hall, with Jet following behind him. Revolver's little fingers won't come undone from Kobra's collar, so he gives up trying and motions to the Doctor that he'll be back. Once they return to her room, where Ghoul is laying on his back, Kobra notices her bottom lip quivering. She's obviously trying to fight it. Revolver doesn't like to cry. 

"You can cry, kiddo. Was that scary?" He sets her down and rubs her back gently, watching her nod silently. 

"I wanna sleep now." She says quietly. "D-Don't let Poison hurt the, hurt the-" Her voice cracks. "Don't let him h-hurt the, the-" Her voice cuts into a squeaking break and she turns away, pressing her face into her pillow. "Don't let 'im hurt the boy no more." 

"I won't." Kobra says quietly, standing and smoothing down her hair with one hand. "Goodnight, Revolver." His boots click on their way out, and the door closes quietly behind him. 

Revolver's shoulders are tight and her face is mashed into her pillow, trying to get her heart to stop racing. She hears Ghoul inhale and exhale slowly, the silence filled with their breathing. 

"Sorry for gettin' mad, kiddo." He says finally. "You weren't supposed to see any of that." She doesn't respond, and he sighs. "C'mon, 'Volver. You mad at me?" He shifts and Revolver turns slightly to see his lower lip jutted out into a pout. "You mad at Frankie? C'mere, baby." She leaps off the bed and into his arms, curling into his chest. He rolls back onto his back and runs his hands between her tight shoulders, relaxing the muscles. "Your lil' heart is beating pretty fast,  _bambina_. There's nothin' to be scared of. It's s'alright." He pulls his blanket up to cover both of them, even though he's still in his dirty fighting clothes and boots, and presses his lips to her forehead. Revolver feels his stubble against her skin as he speaks softly to her. "Poison was just tryin' to protect you, that's all. That's all he was doing." 

"He hit, he hit the boy, and the boy didn't do anythin' wrong, he was just sitting and Poison h-hit him. There's was a lot'a blood, did you see? Did you see it, Frankie?" She says in a trembling voice. 

He laughs slightly. "Darlin' you've seen blood before." 

"Not when you guys made it happen to somebody that wasn't bad." She says quietly, and Frankie stops rubbing between her shoulders. He lifts her a bit to look at her.

"Baby, did we scare you that bad?" She nods and his face falls. He pulls her tighter to him and rubs her back. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it-I'm so sorry, kiddo, I'm sorry." 

"I don't wanna be scared." She whispers. "Not in here too."  Ghoul tightens his grip on her and hides his face so she can't see how pained it is. 

"Never again, okay, okay baby?" She nods. "If you go to sleep, I'll make it up to you in the morning." She nods again and he kisses her forehead gently. 

\---

The next morning, she's alone in Ghoul's cot when she wakes up. The blankets are tangled around her body and she wriggles, trying to free herself. When she finally gets free, she's kinda hot and hungry. She slides out of bed, her feet hitting the cool ground and pulls up her pajama pants-they're always really loose, so she's got to fix them a lot-before padding out into the hallway and looking around. She can't see anybody, except for Poison sitting at the table. She doesn't want to talk to him after last night, but she's really hungry. She's about to sneak into the kitchen when two pairs of boots step into her view. She looks up to see Doctor D smiling at her. 

"Heya, sunshine." He squats down in front of her. "You have a nice bit of shut-eye?" 

"Yessir." She bobs her head. "I slept in Frankie's cot 'cause he's warm." 

He laughs. "I bet he is. Hey, you wanna help me with somethin' important?" 

She perks up. "Like a secret mission?" 

He nods seriously. "You betcha. C'mon, I'll show ya what I'm talkin' about." He takes her hand and leads her down the hallway, where his room is. Opening the door, he shows her to the bed where the young boy is lying dow. His jaw looks terrible, bruised purple and blue, but most of the blood has been cleaned away, leaving his skin to remind Revolver of the clouds again. "This here is Bug."

"Bug?" Revolver asks. "Is that his name? That's a funny name." 

"Righto, that's his name. Will you be an amazin' lil dust bee and keep Bugsy company while I go talk to the boys?" 

"Yes, Doctor D." He ruffles her hair and winks at her before shutting the door behind him. 

Revolver turns to see the boy-Bug-looking at her. His eyes are more aware than yesterday, grey like the sky before it rains, and he blinks at her from behind long dark lashes. 

"Hi." She says, walking over and climbing up over his feet to sit by his legs. "I'm Charlie. Are you feeling better than yesterday? You looked really sick." 

"I'm doing okay." He says, his voice soft. "Nice to meet you, Charlie." 

"Is your mouth hurt super bad?" She bounces up and down slightly. "I'm sorry that Poison almost broke it. Did he break any of your teeth?" 

"Just one." 

"Lemme see, lemme see!" She leans forward. He spreads his split lip away from his upper lip to show her a chipped tooth. "Whoa! That's hecka cool!" 

"R-Really?" He blinks at her. "You think that's cool?"

"Yeah. It makes you look like a baddie. Like you fight a lot. Look, I have a missing tooth. But that's 'cause it fell out." She shows him her missing molar proudly. "I still have baby teeth. I'm not a baby though." 

"I didn't think you were." He looks immensely confused. "Are you allowed to be in here? Are you...allowed to be around me?" 

"Yeah, silly!" She laughs. "Doctor D sent me in to keep you company." 

"I don't...I don't need company." He says miserably. "I need a way out." 

She blinks. "Why? Is it 'cause Poison hit you? He doesn't usually do that, I-"

"No, it's not..." He puts his head in his hands, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's not that. I don't have...I don't have anything left and that stupid, stupid fucking laptop got me fucked over and-" 

"Laptop?" Revolver scoots closer, sitting by his knees. She pats his hand, because she can sense he's upset, and she doesn't want him to cry. "Is that the shiny thing that Poison was yelling about?"

Bug nods. "I didn't mean for them to find it, I was going to erase the stuff, I swear." He sighs heavily, as if there's a weight on his chest. "I don't know what I'm going to do. And fuck, why am I telling you all of this?" His eyes flicker to meet hers. "You're just a kid." 

"That doesn't mean I'm not good at listening." She frowns. "Just 'cause I'm smaller than everybody else doesn't mean I'm not good at listening, Bug." 

Bug does something weird then-he straightens up and nods, like he understands. "I get it. Sorry." He folds his hands and she watches him spin his silver ring nervously. His eyes never stay in one place. "It's bad enough that I stole that laptop. Now it's here, in the very building where you-" He cuts off and snaps his mouth shut. She can tell he wants to say more, but is choosing not to.

Revolver pushes herself off the bed and pads across the room, opening the window as much as she can. "You see the outside, Bug?" She points out the window at the awakening desert. He nods, and Revolver continues with a small scowl on her face. "This is my home. And this places takes anybody, boy or girl or neither, that wants to stay here. Poison says the desert is a mother to every Killjoy without parents." She walks back to Bug and stands by his shoulder, looking into his eyes. "Do you wanna stay here?" 

He nods wordlessly, and he looks slightly bewildered. 

"Then you can stay. It doesn't matter what's on the laptop thingy or not." She crosses her arms. "Okay?" 

"Okay." Bug says slowly. "You're pretty wise for a nine-year-old. Sadly so." 

"And you're kinda skinny for a boy who came from the City. I'm gonna get you food." She says matter-of-factly, turning and going to open the door. 

"Then will you tell me more about the desert?" He asks quietly. Revolver turns and nods, giving him her biggest smile she has. 

"We can get you new clothes too. That jumpsuit might get you hurt." She leaves, and Bug watches her walk away. He leans back against the wall and closes his eyes, sighing slightly. He had no idea what he was going to do, but at least he made a friend. That was something. 

 


End file.
